Mentalist Episode Tag: The Greybar Hotel, 7x2
by Donnamour1969
Summary: In light of the events of the episode, Jane and Lisbon ponder the moments they first fell in love. SPOILERS for 7x2! Rated T for adult themes and mild language.


A/N: Not sure what this is, exactly. A tag? Another conversation I'd love to see? It takes off near the end of the episode, but sort of meanders its way through the past. I guess Lisbon's trip down memory lane in this episode triggered the same desire in me to revisit their relationship's evolution.

As for the episode, I enjoyed this one much more than last week's, though I'm never going to complain that we have so much Jisbon now (restrained as it is). I can hardly believe it! And the case was much more interesting and involving. So many great moments in this one too—conversations that are giving us real insight into their feelings for each other. I teared up watching Lisbon tell Marie about her relationship with Jane. So true. We shippers have seen exactly what she's described with our own eyes over the years. Great the show is finally acknowledging it. We weren't imagining things, were we? I will continue to lament the absence of physical expression of their love—it still seems unnatural to me—but I'll take whatever I can get. A season 7 is a blessing in itself.

**Mentalist Episode Tag: The Greybar Hotel, 7x2**

Jane rolled from her body and onto his back, his sweat-slick chest rising and falling, his entire body trembling—funny how he'd felt just as shaky three hours before, though for an entirely different reason.

"Sorry," he rasped. "I don't know what came over me."  
On the bed beside him, Lisbon was in a similar state. Her eyes closed, her lips formed a soft, dimpled smile.

"I do…residual adrenaline."

"Aw, near-death experiences will do that I suppose."

"Yes. And don't apologize. I am in no way complaining."

She felt him turn on his side, felt one warm hand alight on her bare abdomen, felt his eyes lovingly caressing her.

"When the cavalry came," he continued quietly, "it was all I could do not to rush you in front of Abbot and everyone."

"The Gatorade was a poor substitute," she said.

"Poor, but necessary. I think I more than made up for it a few minutes ago however," he whispered against her lips. "Besides, you appeared in dire need of your electrolytes. Dehydration is nothing to fiddle with."

His smiling lips met hers, and he feasted leisurely on her yielding mouth. Her fingers threaded through his damp curls as she held him to her, and after a moment, the passion flared between them again. But Jane, though his spirit was more than willing, his flesh needed a little more time to recover after round one. They'd barely made it inside the door before he'd accosted her earlier, and all the so-called _residual adrenaline_ had transferred to an onslaught of desire, fear, and thanksgiving.

He lifted his head, reverently kissed the peak of one small breast, then gathered her to his body, his head resting comfortably against hers on her pillow.

"I felt this way before you know," he said casually, though he tensed slightly at the memory.

"Hm?"

"That time when I found you in that old schoolhouse, trussed up in a bomb vest."

Lisbon blanched in horror as her thoughts returned to that frightening time. "Yeah, that was a day."

"It was then I knew I was in love with you," he admitted. "I regret it took something like that to finally admit it to myself, but the thought of losing you forever…I don't think I could survive something like that again."

She pulled away slightly so she could meet his eyes, so beautifully sincere in the dim lamplight.

"You should have told me," she said, though she knew how impossible that would have seemed back then, for either of them. It still seemed impossible _now_.

"It would have been selfish of me to lay that on you, back when my life didn't seem mine to give."

Red John had consumed him then, leaving little room for anyone else in his life.

"No dwelling on the past, remember?" she said, placing a smooth finger on his lips to silence him. They'd agreed to let past hurts and regrets go, to talk only about the good times. And there actually had been quite a few of those, despite Jane's occasional bouts with darkness, or his penchant for leaving her.

She relaxed against the pillow again, reveling in his warmth, in his closeness. She'd only been away from him a couple of nights in jail, but she had missed this more than she realized.

"I remember when I first realized _I _loved you," she began, idly holding up her small hand against his, seeing the contrast between his long, graceful fingers and her much smaller ones, which appeared almost childlike next to his.

"Really? Let me guess."

She frowned. "You're seriously going to take this moment away from me? Pillow confessions are supposed to be what lovers do, right?"

"Yes, right. But we aren't ordinary lovers, are we?"

"That's an understatement," she said with a smirk, lacing her fingers with his and bringing their joined hands to rest over her heart. "All right then, Boy Wonder, knock yourself out. But I doubt if even _you_ will be able to guess this."

He didn't dignify that blasphemy with a reply.

He did give it some serious thought for a moment, flipping through the files of time stored in his mind, scanning like a computer the multitude of shared moments from over a dozen years.

"Aw," he said, settling on his choice. "When I saved your life, shot Hardy."

The image of Jane shooting his only Red John witness the split second before he would have shot her came unbidden to her mind. She'd already loved him before that, but he was almost right.

"Nope," she said, happily dismissing those memories.

He leaned over her face to look at her, searching for a hint of prevarication.

His brow furrowed. "Really?"

"Really. Now, wouldn't it be easier for me to just—"

He held up a staying hand. "Give me a second. I'll get it."

He absently brought her hand to his mouth, tapping her knuckles lightly against his lips—much like he had done with a single finger sometimes when he was deep in thought. She found the gesture to be somehow symbolic—they were in this together now, her hand firmly in his.

Then, as realization struck, he kissed her delicate fingers, tenderly recalling the moment she had looked at him differently for the first time, though he wouldn't wonder at it till much later, after he'd gotten over his frustration with the situation. After losing Red John. Again.

"It was right before that," he said. "You told me that there were people who cared about me." He smiled a little. "And by _people_ you clearly meant yourself. Pretty lame deflection if you ask me." His eyes sparkled warmly at her; yet another example of her inability to lie convincingly-at least not to him.

"But amidst all that new-found love, you were sure angry with me," he added sheepishly.

"You were being an idiot. You thought it was okay to sacrifice yourself so that I could get Red John without you. How the hell do you think I could have lived with myself if I'd let that happen? You were being unbelievably selfish and stupid."

He lifted a sardonic eyebrow.

"Please, sweetheart, don't hold back…"

For all her talk of forgetting about the past, recalling those moments brought it all back, and she found herself experiencing those same emotions as if it were happening now. Anger. Frustration. And a love so strong she felt ready to burst with the need to proclaim it, though her fear wouldn't allow her to give her heart to a man so bent on personal vengeance.

"Well, you were also pretty damn angry with _me_, if I recall," she replied, feeling anew the sting of his disappointment in her, even though she'd just saved his life. "I didn't stick to the plan. You blamed me for letting Red John get away."

"Yes," he admitted. "For about five seconds. Then I put the blame squarely back where I thought it belonged-on myself."

"You were being a complete and utter idiot," she reiterated.

"Yes," he said, turning once more to peer solemnly at her beloved face. "About a great many things."

He kissed her lips, a brief feathering of his mouth across hers, and just like that, he felt the happiness flooding back into his heart. "I was right then, about your moment of epiphany?"

She shook her head at him in mild exasperation. "Yes, dammit. How did you know?"

"One of the most wonderful things about you, Teresa, is how emotionally open your face is. I can read your expressions like a book—"

"And play me like an accordion?"

He grinned. "Naturally. But even though I was focusing so _idiotically_ on myself, I saw the moment when you yourself realized what I had picked up on years before that."

She blushed. "_Years_-? What?"

He caressed her cheek with his empty hand. "It might sound conceited, Teresa, but I knew of your attraction to me long before you were able to acknowledge it to yourself. It was written all over your face, in your eyes…in your adorable blushes."

Of course, her cheeks grew rosier still. "No, that doesn't sound conceited at all."

He chuckled, and for a few moments, dwelled on her tempting lips.

But Lisbon knew he must be right. Looking back, it did feel like she'd loved him forever. She'd felt the physical attraction to him from the moment they had met—what red-blooded woman wouldn't have noticed how incredibly handsome and charming he was?-his tragedy lent a mysterious depth that was difficult not to fall into. She had pitied him at first, but soon his brilliant mind and his exasperating ways had pulled her irrevocably in. They had been friends first, but always, there was a deep caring just below the surface, an abiding affection that only grew the closer they became, the more he allowed her to be a part of his crazy plans and schemes.

He broke from their kisses then, their breathing escalated.

"What's important is not _when_ we knew we loved each other—but that we were both able to admit it to each other at last—luckily at the same time, or thereabouts anyway."

"Airports will never be the same for me again," she said with a dreamy smile. Her hand had drifted to his stomach, following the trail of sandy hair that beckoned her lower.

"But back to the point," he said. His hand covered hers before he completely lost his train of thought. "I never again want to look into your eyes for what I think is the last time. My heart is getting too old to handle the strain."

"I can't promise that," she said seriously. "Neither of us can. It's an occupational hazard."

_Well maybe we should change our occupations_, he thought, but he didn't dare voice that particular confession aloud. Not yet. Instead, he freed her wandering hand in order to glide his own up her soft skin before alighting beneath one lovely breast.

He moved to cover her body once more, both his spirit and flesh very, very willing now.

"Promise me you will never stop loving me," he whispered. "No matter how big an idiot I am, no matter how often I put us both in danger."

"Oh, Patrick," she said, eyes suddenly damp with an all-too-familiar emotion. "You didn't even need to ask…"

**A/N: Thanks for reading, and to my friends on Twitter for helping me choose Lisbon's "moment." **

**So excited for next week's episode. I love to hate Erica Flynn, one of the few people to really get under Jane's skin. Lots of potential for humor and drama in this one, and our couple's first real test of their new relationship. (I predict they'll pass with flying colors ;)**

**P.S.: In case you missed it, since I posted before the CBS premier, I did post a tag to 7x1 as well. And if you want a pre-season companion piece to this episode, I wrote "Conjugal Visit" a few weeks ago. I didn't get everything right, but you might find it fun (and sexy) nonetheless. **


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